Page 32 of Carbon

His throaty chuckle rumbled through me. “I felt you coming.”

“Doesn’t that happen later?” I blurted.

I couldn’t help joining in as he burst out laughing. “Most certainly does,mon cœur.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “On my tongue and around my cock.”

Every muscle in my belly clenched, and I trembled against him. Thoughts of the mystery surrounding his identity fled, leaving just me and Midnight, two souls with an insatiable hunger for each other and a penchant for dirty sex.

“I need to get the door open.”

He swept my hair to the side and brushed his lips across the sensitive skin on the back of my neck as I fumbled with the door code. In the dark with finger shaking, I struggled to get the damn numbers right.

“I keep getting it wrong,” I muttered.

The light from a torch made me jump as Midnight helped me out by illuminating the keypad. I snuck a glance sideways at his face, but it remained in shadow.

The code was 1-8-0-4-2-3-0-9, my parents’ combined birthdays. The lock clicked and we fell inside, slamming the door behind us. Midnight shone the torch around, pausing for a second on my father’s Ferrari F40.

“Nice. Which one?”

“At the far end. Father doesn’t bother to lock it.”

He took my hand and led me towards the 1962 Cadillac, and I realised he’d picked up a bag somewhere along the way.

“What’s in there?”

“A blanket. I don’t want you getting cold.”

“There’s no danger of that.”

Midnight opened the back door for me, his hand resting on my bottom. “Your chariot awaits, Miss Fordham.”

I ducked under the canvas roof and half sprawled across the bench seat. So much for being ladylike. Still, it didn’t matter because as soon as I’d wriggled onto my back, Midnight was on me, supporting himself on one elbow as his lips met mine.

While I’d attended the local private school followed by an elite university for the best education money could buy, I very much suspected Midnight had studied for a degree in kissing followed by a PhD in sex—the man was a master when it came to making my body sing. He left me well and truly breathless as he moved his hands downwards, pausing where my cleavage peeped from the top of my dress.

“You like the outfit?” I asked.

“No, I hate it. Take it off.”

Fabric ripped as I struggled to obey him, and he took pity and gave me a hand with the zipper. Luckily, he’d gone with a T-shirt again, so it only took me a second to drag it off over his head, then we were skin on skin. I reached for his belt, but he stopped me.

“Not yet. I’m having fun with you first.”

“But—”

“Shhh. Patience is a virtue.”

“I’m about to shag a stranger in the back of a car. Do I seem very virtuous to you?”

“Fair point, Miss Fordham, but you wrote the story, and I’m following your plot.”

He dipped his head and sucked on one nipple, causing it to pebble in the cool night air.

“Can’t I change it?”

“No. Besides, your body isn’t complaining.”

Okay, it wasn’t. Meanwhile, my brain was trying to analyse his voice. Did it sound like Beau’s? Difficult to tell, seeing as we’d barely spoken. I thought Midnight sounded huskier, with a hint of a French accent creeping in occasionally, but then his mouth moved lower and I gave up trying to think at all. By the time he plunged inside me, I’d gone mushy from two orgasms and was well on my way to a third. No matter how creative I got, or how many times I turned to the thesaurus, I’d never be able to put into words how good he made me feel. My books were a poor imitation of the real thing.

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